A horse is a horse

[stableman]

WHO: Detlef and open
WHAT: Detlef finds and takes in a tiny horse
WHEN: Current
WHERE: Forest and stables
NOTES: There better not be any need for content warnings, guys.

1. The Forest

It isn't unusual to find things roaming in the forest. Detlef avoids a majority of them when he wanders; he wants to read in a sunny, warm place. Preferably with a cat crawling on him, but he's not going to bring them out where there might be predators. He's barely settled in, book open to chapter five, when he hears a rustling. With a sigh he gets up and looks around to see... a horse. A very small pony, unusually small. Any annoyance at the disruption is immediately gone as Detlef kneels by it.

"Oh, hello there," he says quietly, reaching to start getting burrs and snarls out of its mane. He can't risk using the Vice out here where anyone might come across him, but he knows how to handle a horse without it. It tries for a bite but he pulls his hand back in time; this he knows too. "You've been out here for a while. I'll get you an apple to bite soon, all right?"

2. The Stables

The tiny pony is now clean, with a few ribbons in his hair and his hide starting to gleam from brushing. He seems content enough to munch on the offered food, and Detlef is content enough to hum to the animal as he tries to come up with names.

"You need a small name, one that's not too imposing," he tells the pony. "But not too small. You deserve a little dignity to go with your little hoovesies." There isn't really any question of ownership - if anyone anywhere around owned a pony like this he'd know. He's Detlef's now.

[ooc: feel free to make something else up if you want to run into Detlef and neither prompt works!]

Comments

2

[engravitas]

"What," comes the blunt question, before Ben can stop himself, "is that."

He's pointing at the pony, impressed by just how small it is. It has ribbons in its hair. It's sickening.

And cute, but he'll never admit that.

[stableman]

"It's adorable." There's pure pride in his voice, and it's reflected in his smile as the teeny pony whickers and shakes his head.

"Look at him! He was lost in the woods, and I know for a fact he doesn't belong to anyone anywhere near here. I would have heard. There's horse gossip." Detlef waves Ben in, even though he doesn't think the other man will accept the invite.

"Tea? Something stronger?"

[engravitas]

Ben only furrows his brow, seemingly displeased by the saccharine display.
"Horse gossip," he repeats with a sigh-- he doesn't doubt it in the slightest, nor that Detlef partakes.

"I'll pass." He waves his hand, smoke trailing from the cigarette in his fingers. "Enjoy your thing."

[stableman]

"Oh, come on," he says, sighing and getting up, dusting his knees off as he does. "Something brought you this way, at least linger for a little while. I only bite when people clearly want me to."

He knows Ben isn't social or all that friendly, but that's never going to stop him from trying. Especially when he's fond of Kit.

[engravitas]

This merits a sneer, Ben's shoulders tensing at the thought.

"The Spoke," he explains, gesturing to the tavern as to what brought him this way. "...I'm busy." He turns to go in with something akin to urgency, afraid he won't make it before Detlef tries to convince him again.

[stableman]

"The Spoke? I'm in." He quickly urges the tiny horse into a stall, where he's already got food and water at his level. Then he's closing the stall door and hastily catching up to Ben, bumping shoulders with the guy once he's done as much.

"I thought you'd never ask." Ben hadn't. Ben will likely say he wasn't asking. But with the arrival of another taciturn person Detlef's determination to finish his years-long quest of becoming friends with Ben has taken greater importance. He can't not be friends with Ben and Fiadh. That's just not right.

[engravitas]

It's worse than convincing, it's inviting himself. When Detlef bumps his shoulder, something snaps in Ben, and he whips around to shove the man away, a burning anger in his eyes.

"Don't fucking touch me," he says in a low, dangerous voice. It might be Detlef's imagination, but the spots where Ben's hands made contact with him have an unusual warmth to them.

[stableman]

He stumbles backward, not just confused, but hurt. Ben had come to the stables. He'd popped in. He hadn't had to. And then this? For several beats he's silent, looking at Ben, and then he turns and walks away without another word. Fine. Maybe some missions were meant to be lost after all, because he's not going to have something to do with someone who would put hands on him in anger, no matter what small suspicions he has after that touch.

2

[sampler]

It's early enough in the morning to still be cool when Faro heads down to the stables for his first riding lesson. He dressed for the warmth and ease of movement, wearing a cotehardie with looser sleeves and that stops at mid-thigh rather than around the knees like his usual style. He's worn his most comfortable shoes, too, even though they don't really go with his leggings.

He pauses to give a good couple knocks on the stable doorway just to make sure Detlef knows he's arrived before heading in to his still-unnamed mare's stall to greet her.

[stableman]

The knock draws Detlef's attention and he puts his book away so he can drop down from the hayloft to see his visitor, though he's pretty sure he already knows who it is. Sure enough, Farogil's here... and so are his calves. Hello.

"Hello," he says as he thinks it, pulling his gaze back up to Faro's face. He's not dressed nearly as nicely - leather pants and a loose white tunic. "Are you ready to go riding? And does she have a name yet?"

[sampler]

The thud of Detlef's feet startles him right as he goes to pet the horse's nose, making the both of them flinch. Farogil shoots him a smile- and catches him eyeing up his legs; he knew that it was a good idea to wear his parti-color hose instead of his boring solid ones.

Faro answers with a nod while he rubs along the mare's jaw the way he's learned she likes. After a moment, he suggests, "Mary?"

As if Detlef knows and Faro's just guessing.

[stableman]

He's caught looking and there's no annoyance, no scolding, just a smile and a nod. That's beyond promising, and his smile softens just a little.

"Mary the Mare," Detlef says, smile going back to a full grin. "I like it. Or Marion? Mare Marion. If she had a job, she could be the librarian." This. This right here is why every single cat and horse that lives in these stables have ridiculous names.

"And it works even more for her because Sir Lurk, you can see his tail sticking out from behind that hay pile there," he gestures, "has grown rather fond of her."

[sampler]

Faro's eyes are on Detlef's mouth the whole time he's speaking. There's a wistfulness to his grin; he has too much trouble with repetition to play with rhyme, yet Detlef flows the words together so easily. It's wonderful, a dash of envy mixed in with the happiness that at least he gets to hear it.

"Do you think Sir Lurk will mind if we borrow-" Faro's lips close to make an m-sound, then he thinks better of it and gives a tiny shake of his head. Better not, maybe once he's practiced it alone. "Her for a while?"

[stableman]

"So you wanted to ride her first, then?" It's out of his mouth before he can think, hormones charging forward far ahead of his head, and he at least has the decency to blush a little before hastily continuing. "He's fine, he'll be fine. I spoil all of them, truth be told."

Which might be part of why he's so thin, but he's at least not unhealthy. He just takes care of the horses and ever-growing cat fleet first.

"Let me, um, grab the saddles. She'll follow you out if you head for the paddock. She likes sunlight." Most horses do, which is why they're out there more often than they're in the stalls, but he'd wanted to make sure she was rested before they had their lesson. Rested horses can be more patient horses.

[sampler]

One brow raises in confusion at the first question. Farogil doesn't catch on to why that slip might warrant a blush, just thinks, oh, was Detlef going to mount up first to show him how its done? Seems plausible.

Another nod is his answer as he unfastens the stall door and steps back. Detlef is correct about her gladly heading to the paddock because pretty much all Faro has to do is start in that direction for her to catch on and gladly walk with him. She gets some good neck-pats as reward; he's hopeful that their tentative friendship will hold once he's on her back again.

Depending on how quickly the stablemaster joins them, he might catch Faro whispering, "Mare Marion," to her over and over, very carefully.

[stableman]

At least Farogil doesn't make the slip any more embarrassing. Detlef isn't always great at drawing the line between too much flirting or too little, which is very likely a significant part of why he's single.

He comes back to hear the whispering and is a little curious about what's up with that.

"Horses don't always respond to their names," he says, holding out the blanket that goes under the saddle so Farogil can start to learn to do it himself. If he doesn't know already. "But I've got some carrots, apples, and sugar cubes you can offer her if you want her to learn to come to you."

[howryanow]

Waen stops by about mid-day with a wheeled cart full of sacks and his dogs meandering at his heels. It's a delivery of oats, something ordered from a traveling caravan, and he'd just returned from Northcliff with them. Some went to Detlef, as was required for all the horses the man kept, and some went to the store, but it was faster to deliver the bulk before heading home.

He knocks on the wall by the stable doors and lets out a sharp whistle to have his dogs come to heel.

"Delivery," he calls.

[stableman]

The cats look less than impressed, with some tail-swishing action going on, so he has a guess as to what's going on before he hears the whistle and knock.

"Oh, good, come on in," he says as he opens the larger doors. Three cats streak out right away; the others have chosen to hide in the hayloft for now. They're the smarter ones. "Did you have a good trip?"

[ferruginous]

Despite how rude Fíadh had been on her last meeting with Detlef, true to her word she is on her way to the stables now with finished horseshoes in tow. In fact, she spent extra time and care on each one. She’d say it’s because she’s absolutely dedicated to quality, more realistically she was putting off handing them over. But now they’re done, and with no other options she’s determined to drop them off, grab her payment, and leave just as quickly. When she reaches the stables, however, she’s not able to find Detlef right away. With a frustrated huff she tightens her hold on her bag and makes her way further in.

Fíadh actually slows a bit as she passes each horse she sees, taking in their strong stature and dark eyes. She’s actually quite the fan of horses, but never spent much time around them. She resists the temptation to reach out and touch their faces as she moves forward, eventually seeing Detlef. She picks back up her pace with a deep breath in and rounds the corner.

“I have your shoes, it will be …”

She’s forgotten what she’s going to say. It could have been important, she can’t recall. All her mind can think about right now is the very, very small horse standing in front of her. And she knows that it’s weirdly tiny, it has to be, she just saw a line of very normal-sized horses. Her eyes are wide and her brows furrowed low, trying to piece together what the hell she’s seeing. Her mouth flaps briefly like a fish on land before finding the next words to say.

“...What’s wrong with your horse?”

[stableman]

"He shrunk because he pushed people away instead of being friendly." Detlef grins up at her before he straightens to stand up.

"Deep down, everyone needs friends." A beat. "Or, potentially, he was born small and grew small. I've heard of it before, but it's rare. I've never seen it until now." The little horse bumps his nose against Detlef's leg before trying to take a bite out of it; Detlef dodges as if he was fully aware of what was coming.

"He's still a little touchy, apparently. But he likes having his mane brushed, and the brush is hanging on the wall behind you if you wanna give it a go." Somewhere here there's an opening. He's sure there has to be one.

[ferruginous]

Fíadh’s not that dense, and she can tell that Detlef’s words are more aimed at her then describing the little horse, but her attention is too captivated to bite back with a rebuttal. Instead she slowly lowers the bag of horseshoes to the ground and turns to grab the brush behind her. She clutches the brush tight in her hand as if it were a sword, probably the only way she knows how to hold things honestly. But her approach is soft and she slowly lowers to her knees before the pony. Tentatively she holds her free hand open for the little thing to sniff before raising the brush to its neck.

“... Where did you get him?”

[stableman]

Now is when he should probably ease off... so he does. Detlef takes the bag and starts pulling shoes out, laying them on a counter and nodding as he pairs them up and looks them over. They're good. That might explain why they'd taken so long - it's fair when they're as solid as they look.

"I found him in the woods, coat covered in burrs, mouth cut up from trying to eat plants with thorns, and so on. I'd absolutely have heard if someone around here owned a horse like him, so he's probably wild. That, or he's come from too far away to go searching for his owners." He's pulling coin out of his small lockbox as he talks, getting together what he owes her.

"I'll take him in, and worst case scenario someone with papers comes and owes me the cost of taking care of him. Best case scenario, I now have an adorable little horsey with adorable little hooves." Who is currently trying to position himself for the Best Brushing Ever.

[ferruginous]

Fíadh eagerly continues brushing the pony, even using her free hand to gently stroke his cheek. It's not exactly the soft fur she expected, but neither is it unpleasant. And even as small as he is she can feel the thick muscles of his neck ripple beneath the brush. He's tiny, but he's strong. She can certainly appreciate that. And, yes, she is finding a tugging emotion at her heart that is seeming more and more like … adoration?

“What will you use him for? He can’t do any regular horsework.”

[stableman]

"I could find a tiny cart for him that the cats can ride in." It sounds like a stupid, ridiculous idea, but as soon as it's out he actually wants it a little. Or maybe a lot. How cute would that be? He should ask Kit... or maybe he shouldn't, considering his recent encounter with Ben. The smile that had been growing on his face fades a little as he shifts on his feet.

"I wouldn't actually expect him to do much in the way of work. They don't tend to live long when they're that small, and I wouldn't want to burden him. But he could be a cute representative for the stable, get tourists interested, and the like. There's always something to be said for tourist money." For all of them, really. Tourist season is short but it can bring a lot in.

[ferruginous]

Fíadh gives Detlef a curious frown at the talk of a cat cart. She hasn't known the man long, but she's certainly beginning to learn he has an incredibly odd affection for cats and that makes it difficult for her to decide whether he's being serious or not.

But the the talk of age brings her gaze back to the pony as she sadly considers it. Something this great should live forever. She of all people knows that's not the way the world works, but sometimes, like now, it's really nice to think if it did.

"That's a good idea. For tourism. He's strange enough to bring in a good amount of money."

No, strange isn't the right word though it's accurate. She almost whispers as a smile starts to cross her face.

"He's perfect."